the kiss.
Eventually we pull apart, both of us breathing a little harder. “Done,” I say, smiling as I hand her the next letter.
31 October 1992
Dear Evie,
I’m breaking my rule here. I said I’d only ever write to you when you weren’t here, that every other time I’d tell you all the things I wanted to say. And I am going to tell you this, but I also need to write it down. Because I need you to know, I need you to know exactly how I felt tonight when I finally found you again.
Ready… It killed me, absolutely fucking killed me.
I know that sounds bad, and don’t get me wrong, I’m so fucking happy you’ve come back to me…but not like this, baby. Not like this.
Because right now, I’m sitting here watching you sleep. Only you’re not sleeping, you’re unconscious…and you’re in hospital. Hospital, Evie…after your fucking house nearly burnt down. God, I can’t believe this has happened to you. I can’t believe you’ve been with those fucking arseholes all this time. I can’t believe this had to happen to you tonight for you to come back to me. Fuck, just knowing you were going home to them every night, just knowing that you were so close to me, but I didn’t even realise.
Just knowing that I could have been looking after you, but I wasn’t.
It fucking kills me, Evie.
I have no idea why whatever this thing is that happens to you, sent you to those people, but it’s not right. They don’t deserve you and it breaks my heart knowing you are stuck with them this time. I’ve been trying to work it all out. Trying to find some fucking answers and now this happens.
I’ll be honest though, I don’t even know where to start. Nothing I’ve done so far seems to tell me anything and I’ve really got no clue. And there’s no one I can ask, no one I can talk to about it. That’s almost as hard as losing you, you know. Not having someone to talk to…it’s the thing about us that I miss the most.
Dad’s the one who found you this time. It was a fucking miracle that he was working, that he was the one on-call and that he was the one who pulled you from the fire. I can’t stop thanking him for it. He just smiles and tells me he was just doing his job, but to me it’s so much more than that.
He’s been asking a lot of questions too, questions that I don’t have any answers for. When you first left eight months ago, he and mum, wanted to know why. That’s when I came up with the bullshit excuse about your dad’s work, but since then I’d come up with what I thought was a better excuse. Something that could help explain things in the future. I told them that they weren’t your real parents, that they were only foster parents and you’d had to move because they couldn’t look after you anymore.
It was pretty fucking stupid of me because now, when you’re stuck with these arseholes (sorry baby, but that’s what they are), my previous explanation has only created a million more questions. Dad wants to know how you can go from the people who lived next door to us and were clearly more than capable of providing for you, to the ones who can barely afford to keep a roof over your head. To the ones who almost killed you.
And I don’t know what to tell him, because I have no fucking clue either.
All I do know is that I need you to wake up, Evie. I need to know that you’re ok and that this hasn’t destroyed you like it’s destroying me.
I need you to wake up and remember me…I know you don’t remember me right now, but I’m sitting here looking at you, never forgetting a single thing.
And you just look so tiny and fragile lying in this bed. I just want to crawl in there and wrap my arms around you, hold you and keep you safe from everything. I promised you I would always look after you and would always protect you. Do you remember that, do you remember me promising you that?
Well I feel like I failed you, Evie. That seeing you like this means I haven’t protected you
Eventually we pull apart, both of us breathing a little harder. “Done,” I say, smiling as I hand her the next letter.
31 October 1992
Dear Evie,
I’m breaking my rule here. I said I’d only ever write to you when you weren’t here, that every other time I’d tell you all the things I wanted to say. And I am going to tell you this, but I also need to write it down. Because I need you to know, I need you to know exactly how I felt tonight when I finally found you again.
Ready… It killed me, absolutely fucking killed me.
I know that sounds bad, and don’t get me wrong, I’m so fucking happy you’ve come back to me…but not like this, baby. Not like this.
Because right now, I’m sitting here watching you sleep. Only you’re not sleeping, you’re unconscious…and you’re in hospital. Hospital, Evie…after your fucking house nearly burnt down. God, I can’t believe this has happened to you. I can’t believe you’ve been with those fucking arseholes all this time. I can’t believe this had to happen to you tonight for you to come back to me. Fuck, just knowing you were going home to them every night, just knowing that you were so close to me, but I didn’t even realise.
Just knowing that I could have been looking after you, but I wasn’t.
It fucking kills me, Evie.
I have no idea why whatever this thing is that happens to you, sent you to those people, but it’s not right. They don’t deserve you and it breaks my heart knowing you are stuck with them this time. I’ve been trying to work it all out. Trying to find some fucking answers and now this happens.
I’ll be honest though, I don’t even know where to start. Nothing I’ve done so far seems to tell me anything and I’ve really got no clue. And there’s no one I can ask, no one I can talk to about it. That’s almost as hard as losing you, you know. Not having someone to talk to…it’s the thing about us that I miss the most.
Dad’s the one who found you this time. It was a fucking miracle that he was working, that he was the one on-call and that he was the one who pulled you from the fire. I can’t stop thanking him for it. He just smiles and tells me he was just doing his job, but to me it’s so much more than that.
He’s been asking a lot of questions too, questions that I don’t have any answers for. When you first left eight months ago, he and mum, wanted to know why. That’s when I came up with the bullshit excuse about your dad’s work, but since then I’d come up with what I thought was a better excuse. Something that could help explain things in the future. I told them that they weren’t your real parents, that they were only foster parents and you’d had to move because they couldn’t look after you anymore.
It was pretty fucking stupid of me because now, when you’re stuck with these arseholes (sorry baby, but that’s what they are), my previous explanation has only created a million more questions. Dad wants to know how you can go from the people who lived next door to us and were clearly more than capable of providing for you, to the ones who can barely afford to keep a roof over your head. To the ones who almost killed you.
And I don’t know what to tell him, because I have no fucking clue either.
All I do know is that I need you to wake up, Evie. I need to know that you’re ok and that this hasn’t destroyed you like it’s destroying me.
I need you to wake up and remember me…I know you don’t remember me right now, but I’m sitting here looking at you, never forgetting a single thing.
And you just look so tiny and fragile lying in this bed. I just want to crawl in there and wrap my arms around you, hold you and keep you safe from everything. I promised you I would always look after you and would always protect you. Do you remember that, do you remember me promising you that?
Well I feel like I failed you, Evie. That seeing you like this means I haven’t protected you
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